


The Man With Two Faces

by laenamoradadeHERMIONE (laenamorada)



Series: Viewed point [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 18:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16203596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laenamorada/pseuds/laenamoradadeHERMIONE
Summary: A scene, a chapter, told through the eyes of a secondary character.  Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Part of a series.The speech is taking directly from canon.Disclaimer: I own nothing.





	The Man With Two Faces

**Author's Note:**

> A scene, a chapter, told through the eyes of a secondary character. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Part of a series.   
> The speech is taking directly from canon.   
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

  


He sat on the edge of a stair, his robes pooling around his sides, he tapped his fingers on his knee and his foot on the following stair. A metronome in his head, Tip, Tap, Tip, Tap, Tip, Tap. He stared at the mirror once again. The voice at the back of his head was each time smaller, and the host had less power as he consumed him wile he waited. _He will come._

The second voice stuttered even in his head, _G-go back, It’s s-sealed. N-Nothing to d-do._ He tried to hush the voice, and made sure no sounds left his lips. Patience. All they needed was patience. Today it would be unguarded, and a certain person’s absence was easy to be noticed. He was sure today was his day, and that the boy would follow.

The darkness was barely lit with torches, and he enjoyed the dark, it granted him an advantage so to speak. He looked at the Mirror again, he thought of one more spell and directed it towards it. Nothing. The boy would be the key, he was sure of it.

A boy that was prophesied to be the end of him, a baby that survived him when many adults did not. He knew he could come soon. He suspected someone was alter the stone after all. He stood in front of the Mirror, but there had been no reflection, neither his host nor he had been able to produce a reflection on the damn Mirror. The object was probably conflicted with two souls in one body, the body his host had so graciously shared with him. A stupid riddle that the Headmaster thought to bypass him, did he not know that he lived for Riddles? A small smirk graced his features as he thought to himself.

Like the Riddle in the chamber before him, a lot of potions and a single one that granted immunity to the fire ahead. He read it twice just to be sure, but it was quite easy. For him, however he could not compare his abilities to mere mortals that could follow. He left enough in the vial for the boy that was sure to be following behind to reach him as well, and he was seated in a strategic position for the boy to arrive and afterwards notice him.

He felt itchy, the skin of his host sometimes disagreed with the two dwelling within. Two conflicting magic signatures, and one with much more power than the core was used to. This body would not hold him for much longer, he needed a new host. All bodies withered under his presence, none strong enough to hold him. He needed a proper vessel for his powers, one that he was already planning on obtaining; at the moment he needed to rid himself of threats before trying to be fully corporeal again. He looked up at the inscription again, and scoffed. He was dominating and the host was quiet, thankfully.

_**Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi.** _

The nonsense seemed to be mocking him. The artifact would not respond to his magic. He tried many spells, with the wrong wand and the wrong magic but powerful enough. The glass did not crack, the frame was too resilient, probably goblin made considering it seemed impervious to magic. _Patience. He will come._

He told himself again; even if his rhythmical tapping seemed to disagree he was quite content in the chamber. He heard loud voices on the other side of the door, he was close, and he was not alone. Two voices, young. His wait was over.

“Oh Harry, be careful!”

“You drink first. You’re sure which is which, aren’t you?

“Positive” There was a moment of quiet before the same voice spoke out

“It’s not poison?”

“No- but it’s like ice”

“Quick, go, before it wears off”

“Good luck, take care”

“GO!” A much louder shout, he was getting angry, that was good. An emotional response usually led to more mistakes, something he was hoping to get an advantage out of.

“Here I come.” Lovely, it was like the little boy was playing wolf. Well, the wolf was ready.

  


A boy small for his size, in clothes too big for him that emphasized the fact. He stood with his wand out, unknowing of what he would meet and with the scar that he left on him on full display. The boy gasped, and he took the opportunity to easily disarm the boy. A wand flew towards him, and as he hit his hand he felt a jitter of recognition, a similarity to his first wand, But the other magical signature rejected it, so he settled for the alder wand in his hand, pocketing the holly branch, ignoring the sensation that it had given him.

“Me” he said, still keeping his host out of control, it was withering with the control he was exerting upon the body the past hours. Usually he did not take control for the host to last as long as possible, but today was the day. Today he would eliminate the threat that this boy posed. _For neither can live while the other one survives._ He had to destroy him.

“I wondered whether I’d be meeting you here, Potter” The boy despite being unarmed tried his best to not show fear, too bad such a powerful little thing was on the wrong side. Too bad.

“But I thought- Snape-“

“Severus?” His laugh felt off in this body, gone was the hiss that left his nose when he whispered and the elongating of the s that was a result of his tendency to talk in Parseltongue. But he needed this body, needed to kill the boy. “Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn’t he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?” He imitated his hosts stutter, the boy’s eyes grew wide, realizing he was wrong. Probably never suspected his true host. He had already spent most of the year in this body, bidding his time, being close to him, studying him and now he knew. Now, Harry Potter saw his true host and his intentions.

“But Snape tried to kill me” Poor delusional boy, still blinded by hate. Severus he was well aware despised the boy. However, Severus was useful. Quirrell was not. Severus still was kept in the shadows, when the time was right he would join his side again.

“No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger,” probably the witch that was on the other side of the room before he headed into this chamber alone, “accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match.” Bloody meddlesome witch, “She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I’d have gotten you off that broom. I’d have managed it before then if Snape hadn’t been muttering the counter curse, trying to save you” Severus was a curious thing, but while he kept him in the shadows, he knew he was still keeping his cover in front of Dumbledore, he had not given him instruction to end that yet.

“Severus was trying to save me?” He wanted to roll his eyes at the child, but in the end it did not matter what he believed. Besides, after tonight, he would have no voice to share this tale to anyone. He would be dead.

“Of course” he considered talking was a good way to gain more information on how he had survived, What made him so powerful? Or had it simply been mere luck that brought him here? He had seen more potential in that friend of his throughout the school year, but then again. “Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? Funny, really… he needn’t have bothered. I couldn’t do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular… and what a waste of time, when after all that, I’m going to kill you tonight”

He wordlessly and wandlessly bound the kid, he kept talking just to keep the kid distracted. Let him think his priority was the stone and not him. The stone was a nice extra, that was certain, but the destruction of Harry Potter was his goal. He glanced at the Mirror, he had already exhausted all possibilities of how to obtain the stone hidden behind it in the past hour.

“This Mirror is the key to finding the stone” he mumbled, keeping the boys attention. He started thinking and talking out loud, just for the boy to feel included in whatever plans he thought he had. Distract him. Once he had the stone, a simple Killing Curse would end the day, no more Boy Who Lived, and he would return to life once more. “Should I break it?” He noticed the boy squirming and decided to play with the boy a little more.

“What does the Mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!” Despite the host being quiet in the depths of his mind, the game was for the sake of the boy. He deepened with voice and tried to imitate his Parseltongue accent in this body. “Use the boy… Use the boy”

“Yes – Potter – Come here!” He tried to keep the joyousness out of his voice. This was much too easy. If Dumbledore really thought he would win, somehow the Riddle would be connected to the boy. He wordlessly let the binding lie, he also ushered a thought into the boy, _Find the stone before Quirrell does,_ “Look in the mirror and tell me what you see” he boy stared into the mirror, his awe and shock not something he tried to hide. “Well? What do you see?” he asked impatiently. If this did not work, he would kill him and be done with it.

“I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore. I – I’ve won the house cup for Gryffindor.” Lies, they were all lies. He pushed the boy to the side, and searched the core for his accent, his long lost voice. “He lies…” he said over and over again, the boy turned whiter than before. He was not wrong about the lies.

He looked straight at the boy, pretending to have a conversation with the other half of the body. The boy was petrified on the spot as he removed his turban, the shadow of his former face on the back of the head. Off course, he could not see with those eyes nor produce a voice with that mouth, but he had extraordinary magic for a reason. In his fright, misdirection was much too easy.

“I have strength enough for this. Harry Potter” The boy trembled on the spot, he cast a quiet _Petrificus crus_ and the boy was unaware of why he could not move his legs.

“See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapor. I have form only when I can share an other's body. But there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds. Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks. You saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest. And once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own. Now, why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket?” he asked. The boys eyes opened even wider, they looked ridiculously about to pop out. If the boy knew that he was but an open book. Once corporeal his Legilimency would be as before, but today weakened by this powerless body it was still able to enter his mind easily.

The boy had somehow freed himself from the Leg Bind, he turned and grabbed the boys wrist as he went towards the flaming door. He was surprised at the heat the boy gave and he pulled back his hand, blisters were forming on his fingers. What did the boy to do him? He had no chance to think it through, he saw his struggling to his feet again and lunged, wrapping both hands around his neck. His hands were in pain, as if under a flame, he put all his body weight on top of the boy and then removed the hands from the boy. The pain was less for him as it was for the host, but he could feel it. He saw his hands, the skin swelling and hot. He produced the wand in his hand again, the boy was incapacitated and wandless anyways.

“Av—

The boy reached with his hands to his face, and the same heat that he had felt on the hands was now on his face.

It happened quickly. As he tried to push the hands away from his face he felt his wand leave his grasp. He looked over and saw Dumbledore by the door, wand on his side. He smiled at Dumbledore, for a second the host took over, the pain unbearable. The next second he had vacated Quirrell’s body and it started withering on sight, rolling back, hollering from the pain, and from the loss of magic crumbling to the side.

His non corporeal form couldn’t see, and it needed to find a host soon. He was able to hear though, and the cries of the previous host could be heard. It was dying. And Harry Potter still lived. He fled, a small animal could hold him off for a bit. But he needed to send a message to one of his most loyal followers, he would need a body soon. Maybe a non magical, they tended to struggle less.

He still had a few ideas on how to kill the boy.

  


**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea I came up with reading some ff. I want to make it a non series series. Take the concept for different book scenes. I hope you enjoyed!


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